


Cordial Negotiations

by balthesar



Category: Ender's Game - Orson Scott Card, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-04-29
Updated: 2005-04-29
Packaged: 2017-10-23 08:30:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/248280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/balthesar/pseuds/balthesar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>#458 on <a href="http://www.livejournal.com/community/ithurtsmybrain/48552.html">The Pairing List That Ate Fandom</a></p><p>The boy was young, sixteen or maybe seventeen, and carried himself with the natural assumption of power that was as familiar and still faintly distasteful to Severus as sulphur.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cordial Negotiations

The boy was young, sixteen or maybe seventeen, and carried himself with the natural assumption of power that was as familiar and still faintly distasteful to Severus as sulphur. His dark curls and the arrogant glint of his eye reminded Severus of a young Augustus or Alexander. Or a scion of the house of Black, which was almost more grating.

His charcoal jumper reminded Severus of his imbecilic pupils.

Peter Wiggin appeared in the doorway to Snape's private office. How the boy had found his subterranean chambers--especially with the lack of House insignia on his jumper--he didn't know, nor did Snape intend to entertain the boy long enough to discover. Snape scowled, glancing up from his work and returning his quill to its pot of red ink. "Mr. Snape--" Peter began.

An American. Lovely. What the hell was he doing here? " _Professor_ Snape," he corrected him with a snarl.

Peter continued smoothly, as if he'd not heard him. "I've come to discuss a proposition with you. May I?" He sat down in front of Snape's desk without waiting for an answer.

"You have three seconds to tell me _who_ you are and _what_ you doing in my office before I remove your ability to speak altogether." Snape's tone was cool and menacing.

Peter smiled; the expression failed to soften his features or warm his eyes. "My name is Peter Wiggin. I hope you won't be ignorant enough to dismiss me out of hand based solely on my age; I think you'll find my business here intriguing."

Snape raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed, dubious and displeased at being disturbed. "Is this another plea for an apprenticeship? Because I'm not interested, nor will I be in the future." Snape turned back to the pile of ungraded parchments upon his desk.

" _Severus_ \--" Peter snapped, letting the irritation into his voice.

Snape glared, sweeping to his feet and looming over his desk like an angry vulture. How dare this-- this spoilt _child_ speak to him as though he was an equal...! " _Professor Snape_ is how you will address me, _Peter_ \--"

Peter was on his feet in an instant, staring down Snape with a cold glare. He replied savagely. "You will call me _Mr. Wiggin_ ; I am _not_ one of your students."

"You've yet to prove to me that I should speak with you at all."

Peter nearly rolled his eyes. They let this man teach? Jesus bugfuck Christ. "I'm Locke."

Snape had read Locke's column. It was printed on the third page of a bimonthly academic journal; Locke was the _nom de plume_ of a political pundit who toed a moderate, pacifist line. Locke's ideological rival was a warhawk by the pseudonym of Demosthenes, a popular demagogue who appealed to those who had given up hope of peaceful debate and bloodless resolution. Snape read Demosthenes' column too, in a cheaper paper that catered more to the unwashed masses, the sort of nonsense that the Longbottoms or the Weasleys might subscribe to. While most of the scholarly elite sided with Locke and his superficially-reasonable, conciliatory attitude, Snape had seen enough of both sides to conclude that war was not only inevitable, but had already begun, and privately sided with Demosthenes.

Locke and Demosthenes wrote extensively but declined all public appearances. It was rumoured that Locke was an elder statesman who'd retired lately into quasi-anonymity, which made Wiggin's claim mildly absurd. Demosthenes was also assumed to be a conservative American politician who'd retired from Congress. And yet, here was this teenaged boy, standing in front of his desk, claiming to be Locke. Snape snorted and sat back down. "Prove it."

"The very fact that I've claimed authorship ought to be enough. I know it sounds ludicrous, which is why I'm obviously telling the truth." Peter sat as well, lounging back in his chair.

Snape looked bemused. It would explain the lack of public appearances; Locke had no shortage of invitations, he was sure, but there was no chance an ambitious teenager with a dram of sense would risk ridicule by revealing himself to be so young. With a quirk of his lips, he demanded nastily, "If that's so, then who is Demosthenes? If you're Locke, then I'm sure you'd have access to enough channels of information to find that much out."

Peter's expression didn't change from a level and faintly-challenging look. "I hardly needed any 'channels of information'. Demosthenes is my fourteen-year-old sister."

Snape laughed. "You expect me to believe that _you_ and your... _little sister_ are Locke and Demosthenes? The most popular and contentious political commentators of the last ten years?"

 _At least_ the last ten years. Peter was of the opinion that Locke was the best rhetorician of the last century. "I'm disappointed. I hadn't counted on you being this slow. _Yes._ "

Underneath his massive, beak-like nose, Snape's lips twisted in anger and distaste. "Out," he commanded.

Peter ignored him. "Mr. Snape, I'm poised on the brink of achieving global political hegemony. At this moment, the office is little more than a figurehead position. However, I'm confident that with the right associates, I could achieve a level of political stability and peace unrivalled in centuries."

Snape was a Slytherin. His students were Slytherin, and Wiggin, were he a Hogwarts student, would absolutely be Slytherin. Snape was able to read between the lines of propaganda. "You mean a level of centralized power unrivalled in centuries." Peter shrugged.

"Do you actually _believe_ what you write?" Snape demanded.

Peter regarded him with detached interest, studying the corvine man for several moments before replying. "Does it matter? I'd like to offer you a senior position in the intelligence sector, in the hegemonic government."

"It matters, if you're foolish enough to think that war can be prevented with cordial negotiations. Both sides are out for blood." The irony was not lost on either man. "A mild, placatory administration is akin to sanctioning genocide, but besides that, it's political and possibly personal suicide. The nation is _already_ on the road to war, and it's blatantly obvious how finished Cornelius Fudge is; not only is he likely to lose the Ministry, but I don't expect him to live out the year. So if you believe the same blindly-pacifistic rubbish that you spew via Locke, I have no desire to negotiate, ally myself with you, or indeed hear another word from you." Snape picked up his quill again, the violently-red ink dripping from the tip, waiting for Wiggin to remove himself.

Peter nodded thoughtfully but stayed seated. "I don't," he replied shortly. "While Demosthenes is too clearly eager for war, I agree that the time for serious debates to prevent any conflict has passed. At best, Locke can help settle a ceasefire in the future, after some of the tension has been defused, but I agree that there's little anyone can do to _prevent_ battle. But--" Peter leaned forward at this, his eyes intense and his voice urging, "--it _is_ possible to minimize damage and casualties, by picking up where the Ministry has left off, securing a stable, strong central government and bringing both sides to heel. Then, as the country rebuilds and repairs, so too will the hegemony gain power and earn its reputation not as the bringer of _war_ , but the bringer of _peace_ and a new age of prosperity." Peter sat back again. "I write Locke as I do because a peaceful, progressive government is founded on the support of the educated, upper and middle classes, not the mob to which Demosthene's gladiatorial demagoguery appeals. Demosthenes predicted the beginning of the war, but it will be Locke who ends it."

Snape was almost impressed by this young upstart. Almost. That glint in Wiggin's eye was enough to make him wary; it was the same glint that flashed in the Dark Lord's eye... as much as it could, through the serpentine slit-pupils. The boy even looked like Tom Riddle, years ago, if Dumbledore's Pensieve was to be trusted. Snape sat back in his chair, steepled his long yellowed fingers, and considered Wiggin. "A powerful, prosperous hegemony ultimately under your sole command."

"I'm the one with the vision. The will to achieve it."

"Mm."

"I want you to aid me. You agree that the Ministry, as it stands, is ineffectual at best and actively malicious at worst." Peter leaned his chin in his hand, looking almost boyish. "I am under no illusions that your loyalty is absolute," he continued. "I expect you to be as self-serving and cunning as you've proven to be in the past. I also hope you'll realize that when the dust clears, it will be neither the Dark Lord's nor Dumbledore's side prevailing, but a neutral third party--the hegemony--who is prepared to take control, take action and unify the people. Which is why I expect you to be loyal enough to join and help me."

It was tempting. Wiggin was intelligent--even if he was barely old enough to shave--and certainly possessed of a certain charisma, not unlike that of a pre-snake Dark Lord, but Snape was not in the habit of deciding these things lightly or on a moment's notice anymore. Snape was more interested in staying alive and dangerous than in toppling governments and fighting revolutions. "I've got too many papers to grade and detentions to administer to bother pandering to your delusions of grandeur or aiding your boyhood dream of world domination, Wiggin," he snapped.

Peter was untroubled. "Consider it." He rose, pulled out a small card with a few lines of printed black text--numbers and addresses where one might contact 'Locke' or his secretary--and pushed it across Snape's desk. Peter Wiggin strode out of Snape's office confidently, without glancing back.

He knew he'd hear from Snape again.


End file.
